


You Can't Put the Toothpaste Back in the Tube

by 4theloveofWayhaught



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Angst, EFA Fic Challenge 2019, F/F, Like Heavy Angst, aftermath of suicide, important mental health message, who knew toothpaste could be so sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 12:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17683040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4theloveofWayhaught/pseuds/4theloveofWayhaught
Summary: The aftermath of Waverly’s fight with Jolene. Insight into how each person reflects on the consequences of their actions.





	You Can't Put the Toothpaste Back in the Tube

**Author's Note:**

> Welp. This story was really important to me as a suicide survivor. I don't graphically describe the suicide as to avoid triggering anyone, but I do heavily describe the aftermath of Waverly's actions.
> 
> Who knew toothpaste could be so sad?
> 
> Thanks to EFA podcast for starting this competition and inspiring me to write this.

Mama always said: ‘You can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube.’

 

Ever since they were little girls. Wynonna would call Waverly a mean name and for a week, that tiny little ball of fury with pigtails held a grudge and refused to talk to her. When Wynonna had enough of the silent treatment and missed her best friend, Mama would sweetly pull her to the side and sit her down. She would lean forward and like any good mother, start playing with Wynonna’s hair. She would explain to her that words hurt and can affect others. After her lecture, she would always end it with her signature warning.

 

“Now, Wynonna…it will take some time for you to earn Waverly’s trust and affection back. She may be little, and you might not have meant for your actions to be taken so seriously, but you can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube. Once you’ve called her a mean name, there’s no taking it back. No matter how much you wish it. No matter how much it hurts – the both of you. No matter how much you regret it. Once it’s out, toothpaste just never really fits right back into the tube.”

 

~~~~

 

Gus always said: ‘Girls. You can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube.’

 

When Wynonna and Waverly moved into their aunt and uncle’s house, they lived through a couple of angsty years. Wynonna proved herself to be a reckless delinquent, and Waverly’s perfection influenced her actions more than her heart did. Together, they usually left a path of destruction. Wynonna’s negative consequences were externally seen in bad report cards, juvie, and anger. Waverly’s actions materialized internally, wracking her mind with negative thoughts.

 

Sometimes, the girls would go to great lengths that would end either behind bars for Wynonna or in a breakdown for Waverly.

 

Gus would sit them down and talk to the girls about what they’re doing. She would explain how their actions are not just hurting themselves, but also the people around them – the people who love them.

 

“Girls. I know. It’s hard to figure out what in the damn hell is goin’ on in your head and your heart. Honestly, you have both been through a lot. More than any child should ever handle. It may seem like the world is against you. But that doesn’t give y’all the right to go around actin’ like hooligans. No matter how bad it gets, life doesn’t give you a freebie to act however you want. All actions have consequences. You can’t go around puttin’ the toothpaste back in the tube.”

 

~~~~

 

_You can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube._

 

~~~~

 

Doc sat with his second bottle of whiskey in between his legs. The remnants of the first were scattered across the floor. The only light – from the fire – reflected and danced off the shards of glass littered around him. Wind howled along the thin walls and created the only noise in a deafening silence.

 

Tears ran down his face. Whether they were tears for himself, for his family, for dear sweet Waverly, or for just simply the god awful situation that he found himself in, Doc didn’t care. It seemed that all he could do was silently cry, drink, and break things.

 

He already broke up a family.

 

Now he broke everyone’s hearts.

 

Waverly’s death was his fault.

 

 

 

 

_‘Why pray tell are you crying? Again.’_

_‘Because everything? I... I think Nicole just dumped me and I don’t – guess what? – I don’t even blame her. I… I yelled at Wynonna. Mama’s going back to jail and I feel like it’s all my fault._ ’

 

 

 

 

“God DAMMIT!” Doc swore to Hell and below. He shook as his body, mind, and spirit were overcome with grief. “No. Sweet, darling, dear Waverly. It was all my fault…”

 

 

 

 

_‘Wait. Are you saying…the demon? Is it me?’_

_‘You know; it would make sense. You’re not the same as the rest of ‘em. Bobo said you were his kin. Plus – you got a real vicious streak.’_

Doc pulled his knees tight to his body. His bottle of whiskey now flush with his chest. He closed his eyes tight, willing it all to go away.

 

He muttered to himself. “I did not mean it. You are- …were the kindest person in Purgatory. There was not a vicious bone in your body. I should not have said it. I should have been there for you. I wish I could take it all back.”

 

He looked over to the cracked picture frame he threw across the room. A smiling Wynonna stared back at him.

 

“She will never be happy again.”

 

~~~~

 

_You can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube._

 

~~~~

 

Nicole lay in the too cold and too open of a bed. She desperately clutched the 'I’m sorry' bear that she had bought. She grabbed so tight that the stuffing had abnormally clumped to the head and the feet, leaving the bear’s chest flat and empty.

 

The bear’s barren chest bore a remarkable similarity to Nicole’s, who’s heart recently broke and crumbled to pieces that would never mend.

 

A cluster of balloons lay too low to the ground after losing all of their helium. The unicorn deflated to the point that it lost all of its luster. It lay broken and wrinkly on the ground.

 

The roses had long wilted away. They originally stood bright and luscious, but no love nor care existed in the homestead to allow them to flourish. No one held the capabilities to take care of something as precious as them…as precious as Waverly.

 

Nicole cried all that she could. The only remnants of her breakdown were the dried tear tracks running along her cheeks. Now everything was numb.

 

She couldn’t think.

 

She couldn’t feel.

 

All she could do was remember.

 

 

 

 

_‘Were you not even thinking about me at all? Am I always the last person you consider?!’_

_‘No. I…I’m so sorry. I- um, god… Can I call you later?’_

_‘Yeah, or don’t’_

 

 

 

 

Nicole crushed her phone in her hand. She would never again see Waverly’s face on her incoming call screen.

 

“Please,” Nicole begged and cried. “Please call me later Waverly. I’m so, so sorry.” Nicole hiccupped, her pain overwhelming her to the point of near hyperventilation.

 

“I need you to call me baby. I need you to know that I love you. I have never loved anyone more than I loved you. I never meant it. It wasn’t supposed to come out so harshly...”

 

There, lying in the fetal position, clutching a teddy bear like a lifeline, and crying to a picture of Waverly’s contact card on her phone, lay the shell of the human being that was Nicole Haught.

 

~~~~

 

_You can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube._

 

~~~~

 

Wynonna Earp had no one left.

 

She suffered the seven stages of grief, in only the Earpiest of ways.

 

First, Wynonna could only see through the red haze during her fits of rage. Her sole desire through her path of destruction was to make the outside world as broken as she felt.

 

No one would stand in her way. They felt that this spark of violence would be the way Wynonna grieved, and then she would go on living.

 

They were wrong.

 

Nicole stood aside as she tore through the homestead. As long as she left Waverly’s room untouched, Nicole allowed Wynonna to shatter nearly everything in the household.

 

Doc turned a blind eye as she acted as a wrecking ball at Shorty’s. As long as she didn’t touch his whiskey, which was his own coping mechanism, Doc allowed Wynonna to break nearly everything at the bar.

 

The destruction at Shorty’s led Wynonna to her second stage of grief.

 

Drinking.

 

Drinking to the point of crying.

 

Drinking to the point of passing out.

 

Drinking to the point of euphoria, which masked the blackout, aggression, and vomiting.

 

For nearly a week, Wynonna drank to the point of alcohol poisoning.

 

But no, she didn’t want help. She didn’t need help. The only person that could help was Waverly and she wasn’t _here_ anymore.

 

The others noticed that this wasn’t going away. Nicole, Doc, Jeremy, and Nedley pulled together to try and help. But how can they help, when they, too, where broken beyond repair?

 

The love of her friends lead Wynonna to stage three.

 

Isolation.

 

She pushed everyone that she’s ever loved away. She didn’t deserve love. She screamed at them.

 

“Fuck off! Why weren’t you there for Waverly like this?!?! Huh? You think you can butter me up and love me and make me feel less alone? Well I’d rather be alone than be with people who drove Waverly away! You weren’t there for her then! And now? There’s no way in hell you’re allowed to be there for me…”

 

Left alone and with nothing else to damage, Wynonna spent her time with her thoughts tormenting her.

 

The thoughts rumbling around in her mind brought along stage four of her grief.

 

Painful, painful regret.

 

 

 

 

_‘Since when do we have sides?’_

_‘I dunno, but you sure as hell don’t seem to be on mine, half-sister.’_

“Half sister,” Wynonna mumbled through her tears. She sat with her knees curled in. She leaned on the pole in the greenhouse. She stared at the spot where they had found Waverly.

 

“I didn’t mean it…Baby girl.”

 

Wynonna slowly observed the rest of the greenhouse. She took in and committed to memory every visual Waverly probably saw before she died.

 

Most importantly, she saw how dark the atmosphere was and how it filled with despair. No love or light existed there. And now neither did Waverly.

 

 

_‘Shut up, Waverly!’_

“Shutupshutupshutup,” Wynonna banged her head against the pole with each assault of a memory of her mistakes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

 

She sobbed until she couldn’t.

 

“SHUT UP!” She screamed into the void; desperately pleading to make the voice in her head shut up, and the apparition of Waverly come out.

 

“I just…I need- I need to apologize. Why didn’t you give me the time to apologize? Huh? You couldn’t have just _waited_?! It was a SPELL! It was a demon! We were coming home to YOU!”

 

Wynonna stormed up and out of the greenhouse, smashing every breakable thing on any available surface.

 

The fiery woman fumed into her next stage of grief – a binge of violence.

 

Peacemaker seemingly melded into Wynonna’s hand.

 

The heir didn’t sleep. She didn’t eat. All she wanted – needed – to do was kill.

 

A man came out of the bar.

 

Red eyes.

 

BANG!

 

A woman stole dresses from a local shop.

 

Red eyes.

 

BANG!

 

A man watched children on a playground with no child of his own.

 

Red eyes.

 

BANG!

 

A revenant surprised her by coming up behind her one night. He threatened Wynonna with a knife. He held her neck up to his blade. He reeked of alcohol and death, but the sound of his gruff laughter overwhelmed all of Wynonna’s senses.

 

He brought his lips up to the shell of Wynonna’s ear.

 

“I hear that trash baby sister of yers realized just how worthless she really was and offed ‘erself. Now who’s gonna protect ya?”

 

Fueled with rage and misery, Wynonna spun out of his grip, hit him in the groin, pushed him to the ground, and stepped on his throat. Staring into his hellfire eyes, she brought Peacemaker out of its holster.

 

“She was _never_ supposed to protect me.”

 

She continued to intensely stare until his smoldering bits had finally left the plane of existence.

 

With no trace of the revenant left, Wynonna collapsed. She lay there, on the frigid and unkind concrete. The revenant’s last words replaying in her mind.

 

With the last of her will, Wynonna whispered, “I was supposed to protect her. But…I-…I’m the reason she’s dead.”

 

Nothing.

 

Numb.

 

She reached her second to last stage of grief.

 

After 28 years of living, Wynonna finally knew the true definition of purgatory. Torture. She floated in this endless abyss of day in, day out, solely wanting to sleep and never being able to. She couldn’t be sad if she didn’t feel anything. She couldn’t be angry if she didn’t feel anything. She couldn’t be reckless, or violent, or rude, or crazy, or anything, if she didn’t feel anything.

 

She felt nothing.

 

She was nothing….

 

Waverly was something.

 

Waverly was everything that Wynonna could no longer be.

 

She was considerate, friendly, funny, loving, intelligent, inclusive and most importantly, she was determined.

 

That tiny ball of fury was determined.

 

An uncertain number of days on the calendar passed before Wynonna remembered just how determined her babygirl was.

 

Waverly had used her kindness – her power – to help Wynonna become the best person she could be.

 

Wynonna reflected on her months of grief, reconciling with the fact that she acted as a disservice to Waverly’s name.

 

She would not let Waverly die in vain. She would fight _for_ her.

 

The final stage of an Earp’s grief.

 

“I’m fighting for you, babygirl. Always.”

 

Acceptance.

 

~~~~

 

_You can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube._

 

~~~~

 

Waverly Earp took her own life.

 

 

 

_‘It’s too much.’_

Waverly Earp.  

 

She drove the knife into her chest.

 

She can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube.

 

She will never understand that it was all because of a demon.

 

She will never spend another day with her loved ones.

 

She killed herself and there is no going back from that.

 

Her choice ended all other possible choices she could ever make again.

 

Her regret could not change anything.

 

Waverly Earp was gone.

 

Far too soon.

 

~~~~

 

_You can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube._

 

~~~~

 

Please.

 

Mental illness, a bad day, other people being mean, feeling unloved, worthless and alone.

 

These do not equate to a bad life, to a life always filled with darkness.

 

Once the toothpaste is out, it can never go back in.

 

Please don’t make that choice that you can’t come back from.

 

Stay.

 

 

 

~~~~

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU FOR READING!! I love you all. Please, if you are hurting, seek help.
> 
> www.greenribbonclub.org for help.
> 
> Also, if you need a lighter, funny, and fluffy fic to lighten your mood, I just updated my other story 'Remember Me'.
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/16698151/chapters/39162163


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